The Metahuman Principle
by hlifehotdog
Summary: A merging of the DC and Supernatural universe, experienced from my OC's perspective. An ongoing conflict between the Supernatural, Metahumans and the rest of the world creates an interesting conflict with Hunters and metahumans finding their place in the world. Not completely lore or canon friendly, added my own interpretation.
1. 01 The Birds Take Flight

The people in the street were cowering under any shelter they could find. The rain was pouring down and torrents of water turned the narrow Tokyo alley into a shallow river. The market stalls were covered with tarpaulins of various colours, the owners still selling their produce underneath. The mixed smells occasionally managed to pierce the heavy rain, but the strongest smell was that of smoke. A small store had been torched further along the alley and the area was cordoned off. A lone police car sat just behind the cordon, the sole occupant was fast asleep.

A single blue and white umbrella approached the police cordon. The woman underneath stopped right in front of the yellow tape blocking the alley. Rain was flowing off her umbrella and splashing onto her long black raincoat that reached below her knees. She was tall at 6' 3" and a black wide-brimmed hat covered her ginger shoulder-length hair. She examined the burnt building with her deep green eyes, tinted with purple flecks.

The fire was long out, but not before completely engulfing the entire second story of the structure. The roof had collapsed, but the ground floor seemed mostly intact. A singed sign informed her that the building had been a brothel. Removing a small flashlight from the pocket on her raincoat, she shined it cautiously at the police car. Once she was satisfied the officer was asleep, she lifted the tape blocker her way and ducked underneath. She glanced up and down the street as she approached the front door, but there wasn't a single soul braving the weather to be able to see her. The front of the building had been modelled to look similar to traditional Japanese houses, even though the building itself was just a concrete square. She tried the door handle of the ornamental double door and found that the door swung open readily having been already busted open. Most likely from firefighters, she mused, before quietly stepping inside.

The inside hall was covered in peeling and waterlogged salmon pink wallpaper, revealing the bare brown concrete wall underneath. Broken vases and plastic plants lay scattered among an array of other debris. With no roof, water continued to pour through the ceiling and flooding the floor. The carpet sloshed underfoot as she walked carefully, heavy drops thudding against her umbrella. Looking though each room, she found her way to the stairs, a cascade of water flowing down them. There was a lot of rubble on the stairs from the collapse. She closed her umbrella and held it from the pointed end with her gloved hand. Using the hooked handle of the umbrella, she pulled rubble aside and pulled herself up. After several minutes and a few small landslides of rubble, she pulled herself up onto the second floor. The smell of smoke was strong and pungent, even now that she was exposed to the pouring rain. She opened her umbrella again as with no roof above her, her hat was not wide enough to shelter her from the driving rain.

There almost wasn't anything up here that wasn't black. With the added rain, the floor was covered in a layer of sloppy black mud. According to the news, there had been five people killed in what had been described as an apparent gas explosion. The bodies had already been removed, but it was the remains of a sixth that she was looking for. She spent twenty minutes searching the burnt rubble until she felt glass-like crunch under her heavy combat boots. Stepping back, she squatted down and began to feel in the thick soot-mud. She felt small hard pebbles underneath and pulled one out. She washed it under the steam of water flowing off her umbrella, revealing a beautiful orange and black pebble the size of a pea. Its edges were rough and aside from its colouring, it looked like an ordinary stone. She dropped it back into mud and stood, pulling a phone from her pocket. With a few quick button pushes, she was dialling.

A male voice answered. "Ivy?"

"I've found our guy," she said. "There's leftovers of his business all over the site."

The man on the phone grunted in reply. "Damn, that was quick. We only just got wind of him too. Is it bad?"

She looked around at the scene of destruction. "You can say he left with a bang alright. Five dead apparently and half the building gone."

"When was the explosion?"

"This afternoon."

"After an explosion like that, he'll be up within 24 hours. I've got a friend in the area, I'll give them a call and see if they'll help you out."

"I don't need the backup Ben," she said, frustrated.

"It's a Phoenix, Ivy. They don't go down like your usual critters."

"I can manage," she almost pleaded. "I've dealt with worse."

"Yeah," Ben scoffed. "You barely survive your solo stunts. One of these days there's going to be nothing left of you to bring back."

"Whatever," she retorted. "I don't want help."

"Too bad. They'll be there in a bit."

Sighing in frustration, she hung up the phone and put it back in her pocket. An idea came to her, and she knelt down and found a handful of the coloured pebbled. She placed them in a small plastic zip-lock bag and shoved it into her pocket. Suddenly, her stomach grumbled and she realised it had been a while since she last ate. She turned back to make her way back to the alley. Perhaps one of those market stalls were still open, she thought.

Ivory Nia Creed, 24 years old, worked for an organisation known as the Exodus Battalion. Founded in 2005 and based in England, it was composed of members commonly known as 'Hunters', operatives trained to deal with dangerous 'supernatural entities'. Hunters originally operated in splinter cells all over the globe, with little to no contact with other Hunters and no overhead management or organisation. Although the occupation has existed in the shadows for centuries, the emergence of metahumans in the last few decades flipped the world on its head. Hunters had originally tried to deal with these new individuals either by keeping them underground or, for particularly dangerous or violent ones, killing or imprisoning them. Hunters had long worked out of the public eye in an effort to maintain the 'sanity' of the world. However, when the likes of Superman and other prominent metahumans emerged, it became more difficult to keep the existence of the supernatural hidden as well. The world's eyes were open, and many Hunters began to operate more openly. Then a number of Hunters came together and formed an official organisation that is now known today as the Exodus Battalion.

Ivy had not been brought up with the family business. Raised in England, her mother was a baker and her father was a hunter from the United States. She spent most of her childhood in an English boarding school until she was expelled at seventeen. With her parents separated since she was 11, her mother wanting nothing to do with her and her father back in the US, she took off on her own. After a couple of years living on the streets in rough areas of London, her father tracked her down and took her under his wing, teaching her his trade. He took her back to the States and she spent a few years training. Her hot-headedness caused many clashes with her father, and eventually she left the States and returned to England. While clearing out a vampire nest in Scotland, she met a fellow Hunter who worked for the Battalion. They introduced her to the organisation and she hasn't looked back since.

A boom of thunder awoke Ivy. She sat up with a start, one hand holding the silver knife under her pillow. A flash of lightning illuminated her room through the hotel window, quickly followed by another clap of thunder. Wearing nothing but a white singlet and her black underwear, she got up and looked out the window at the Tokyo city lights shining through the gentle shower of rain. She glanced at the clock on the wall, read ten to six, and pulled the curtains closed. A knock at the door surprised her. Grabbing her pistol from the dresser, she approached the door cautiously.

"Who is it?" she called out, looking through the peephole.

The striking blonde woman on the other side, wearing a skin-tight black outfit covered by a black leather jacket, quietly called back. "Ben sent me. Said you needed some help with a fiery character,"

With a sigh and a cursing of Ben's name, she opened the door, keeping the pistol hidden behind her back. She was just about to spin an apology and decline the help when she got a full look at the woman. She had beautiful golden back-length hair and her leather uniform was strikingly familiar.

"I know you," Ivy stuttered, almost in shock.

The blonde smiled and held out a hand. "Dinah Drake. Ivy I believe?"

Ivy shook Black Canary's hand and nodded in disbelief. She had seen Black Canary on television a few times, but had never seen her outside the US. She recognised her familiar costume, but noticed that she had traded her usual fishnet stockings for black leather trousers.

"Can I come in?" Dinah asked.

Ivy snapped out of her shock. "Oh... yeah, of course," she said, moving aside.

Dinah stepped inside and Ivy shut the door behind her. Looking around the hotel room, Dinah inspected an armchair as if for quality, before sitting down. Ivy discreetly put the handgun on a nearby table and went to the bathroom to grab a robe.

"I see you Hunter's don't live the glamorous life,"

Ivy didn't reply until she was back from the bathroom, tying the robe cord around her waist. "It's not a glamorous job," she replied. "At least it's not on my dime."

Dinah chuckled, but didn't reply.

"So," Ivy started. "I didn't think Ben had friends in such high places."

"Oh, you mean Mr Prestin? I hardly know him, but the Exodus Battalion have done my team and I a few favours."

"Oh really?" Ivy was confused. The Battalion's relationship with metahumans wasn't exactly favourable. Many Hunters still attacked them on sight and the organisation had a 'don't ask, don't tell' policy when it came to missing metahumans. "I didn't think the Battalion were in the business of doing favours."

Black Canary's mood shifted slightly, becoming a little more intimidating. "And I'd probably agree with you, but they've changed their tune lately. They've helped the Birds of Prey with information and assets, which is a lot better than open firing on us like they have done in the past," her tone turning accusatory, looking at Ivy.

She put her hands up defensively. "Hey, I haven't tangled with one of yours yet, and I don't intend to unless they give me a reason to." And it was the truth. Ivy had made an effort to avoid the metahuman side of the job, despite the pressure from other more unscrupulous Hunters and the organisation.

Dinah relaxed a bit. "I'll take your word, though you seem harmless enough since you haven't tried to shoot me yet," she smiled. "So what nasty beast are we tangling with today?"

"A Phoenix," Ivy said, grabbing a notebook from her rucksack. Dinah's left eyebrow kicked up a few notches. "We've been tracking one for a few months now as they're pretty rare. There was an explosion at a brothel in area and there were some distinct phoenix remains."

"Remains? I thought it was still alive?"

"For some reason, it combusted itself, but a Phoenix doesn't go down so easy, they're basically immortal."

Dinah leaned forward with a hand on her chin in thought. "So," she pondered. "How are we going to take this thing out?"

"Incapacitate and capture," Ivy pulled a pair of handcuffs out of the rucksack.

"Kinky," Dinah mused.

Ivy chuckled. "Iron cuffs. A lot of things are weak to iron and a Phoenix can't use its powers with a pair of these on."

"Alright, so how long till this thing comes back?"

"Sometime today," Ivy said, looking at the clock on the wall again. "According to the lore, a Phoenix rises from the grave after a day."

"Well," Dinah stood from the chair. "Lets go get some breakfast and catch us a bird. Hey, maybe it can join the Birds of Prey," she said with a laugh.

Smiling, Ivy went to the bathroom to get dressed. It was going to be an interesting day.

The two songbirds spent the morning wandering the local streets of Tokyo, looking for their next breakfast. The rain continued to drizzle throughout the day. They eventually settled on steamed rice and miso soup at a local café and spent a few hours talking about their respective trades.

"So what brings you to Tokyo, Dinah?" Ivy said as she shoved a mouthful of rice in.

"A friend of ours asked for some help with some... umm... personal issues."

"Aren't you American, though?" she said, still chewing the mouthful of rice. Manners were never her strong suite.

"Oh, yes," she realised the point of the question. "My team, the Birds of Prey, operate all over the world. There's not much point in protecting the same territory as the Justice League, we'd just step on each other's toes."

"So you kinda went mercenary then?"

Black Canary though about this between sips of her Miso soup. "I suppose you could look at it like that, though we don't actually get paid by those we help, we're self funded."

"Who by?"

"Now that's getting a little more into the 'need-to-know' area," Dinah said with a smirk, continuing to sip her soup. "But speaking of which, who funds you?"

Ivy had never been asked that before, and while she wasn't ever told that it was secret, it seemed like a bad idea to tell a 'model of truth and justice' that she lived off fake credit cards and bouncing cheques. "I get by," she said as innocently as possible.

Dinah laughed. "Yeah, sure. There's no way you can convince me that the 'humble' Exodus Battalion funds its Hunters through hedge funds and fund-raisers." Ivy kept silent under the guise of shoving more rice in her mouth. "I won't deny they've done some good work," Dinah continued. "But their practises leave much to be desired. You're only going to get away with that legal loophole for so long, especially if you Hunters keep up with the metahuman killing."

"It's not that bad," Ivy tried to deflect. "Some get a bit carried away, but most of us accept that you guys aren't all bad."

Dinah's stare went cold. "A young boy with the power to control electricity was killed by a Hunter just a few months ago. He was only 15."

Ivy recalled that particular incident. It had been a messy scenario with people split down the middle. A Hunter in the area killed the boy when he got scared and started accidentally frying a few people. There was a lot of applause for the Hunter stepping in, but he had been attacked for using lethal force instead of just subduing the boy.

"Okay," Ivy urged, trying to defuse the situation. "I admit that there was probably a better way he could have handled the situation."

"Probably?" Dinah said sternly. "The boy could have been taught how to control his power. He was scared. Killing a scared kid doesn't make you hero."

"Okay, okay!" she raised her hands in surrender.

The next few minutes were silent as the two women finished their food and paid the bill. They set off and the began rain to fall heavier as the pair made their way to the torched brothel. There was no police car out the front of the building, instead replaced by a pair of white vans. Ivy and Black Canary climbed to the roof of the building opposite and watched. There were three people sifting through the rubble who seemed to be government officials of some sort. They kept out of sight, but watched the building for any sign of the Phoenix.

Black Canary was still in her traditional costume, though with the leather trousers covering her usual fishnet stockings. Ivy had changed into her combat apparel. Losing the black trench coat, she wore a kevlar corset and a thin yellow and black jacket that buckled around her with several black leather straps. A pair of yellow and black reinforced kevlar jeans with built in kneepads covered her legs down to her shin-high black combat boots. Her ginger hair blew freely in the light breeze, a pair of goggles resting on her head.

It was almost midday before anything happened. The pebbles Ivy had kept started to glow red hot, melting through the plastic bag which she had placed on the rooftop edge. As the pebbles started to glow brighter, they started to vibrate towards the brothel, as if drawn by a magnet.

Ivy noticed, and nudged Black Canary. "Heads up, I think it's time."

One of the workers noticed the mud starting to boil. She approached cautiously as the puddle of mud began to bubble and steam. As she got closer, the mud bulged and something began to emerge from the shallow mud, as if growing impossibly. The pebbles Ivy had on the ledge flew away sharply towards the growing figure, hitting it with a squelch and were absorbed. The woman backed away slowly in fear of the humanoid figure that emerged from the mud. It stood up straight, towering a full foot above the woman. It glowed red hot and the mud covering it began to dry into solid cakes before falling away. The creature's final form was that of a genderless human, standing over seven foot tall. It had glowing orange locks of hair that shimmered like fire and a pair of angel-like wings sprouted from its back, each feather was like a small timid flame. Its skin was pale, and its eyes glowed like fire. The rain turned to steam when it hit the creature. The woman fell back into the mud, too stunned to scream she started clambering backwards in the mud, her mouth agape. The Phoenix's wings flapped gently, allowing it to hover slightly above the mud. It began to float towards the woman, who finally managed to find her voice and scream. Reaching out it's hand to touch her, the Phoenix was just inches away, close enough for her to feel its glowing heat and her hair to begin to singe.

A gunshot rang out and the Phoenix flinched violently. It turned in the direction of the gunshot, the flames on its wings intensified. Ivy stood with one foot on the ledge of the roof, scoped rifle in hand, the barrel smoking as the rain cooled it.

"That got its attention," she grinned.

The Phoenix gained altitude, it's wings flapping heavier, billows of steam forming from them as more rain boiled. The swooped towards Ivy with incredible speed. Before it reached her, Black Canary jumped from behind Ivy. Ivy heard the sound of bones breaking as it flew full force into Black Canary's boot. The stunned Phoenix bounced backwards, falling to street level and crashing straight into the pavement, leaving a small crater. Black Canary dropped down towards the still stunned Phoenix as it tried to pick itself up. She landed square on its head, slamming it back into the ground. She kept one foot on its head as she called up to Ivy.

"Throw me the cuffs!"

Ivy grabbed the iron handcuffs out and was about to throw them to her when she saw what the Phoenix was doing. She tried to call out to but it was too late. Black Canary looked down just as the Phoenix erupted into a column of fire. The blast send her flying, crashing into the side of a building. The Phoenix's wings flapped strongly as it picked itself up from the crater and looked at Ivy standing on the ledge above. Black Canary was dazed and smoking from the blast, groggily trying to pick herself up.

With a pissed-off screech, the creature flew straight at Ivy. She rolled backwards just as it flew past, trying to grapple her. Pulling out her pistol, she righted herself and fired several custom iron bullets into the Phoenix. The wounds caused the creature a significant amount of pain, even if the bullets only passed through its fiery wings. It landed heavily upon the roof of the building, staggering slightly. Clip empty, Ivy grabbed her iron bat and poised it ready to strike. Striding towards her, face the embodiment of fiery rage, the Phoenix tried to grab her with it's fiery hand. Ivy dodged away from its grasp and swung her bat, connecting with its head. The creature clearly felt it, as its head snapped sideways from the impact before turning back angrily.

Unexpectedly, the Phoenix spun towards Ivy, wings outstretched. She was slapped full-force by the large wing, impacting her in the torso as she managed to raise her arms to protect her face. She was flung back several meters, her jacket smouldering. It was on her before she could recover, standing with one foot on her. She used the bat to hold it at bay as it tried to combust her with its touch. It was strong and heavy, and Ivy wasn't going to be able to keep it at bay much longer.

Suddenly, the Phoenix was flung sideways off her as Black Canary kicked it away. She had ditched her black trousers and her fishnet stockings had several burnt holes in them. Her legs were red with burn marks, but nothing more than superficial burns. Her blonde hair was slightly singed and matted, but she had a determined look in her eyes, only serving to make her look more intimidating. Black Canary helped Ivy to her feet.

"You alright," Dinah asked.

"Thanks for keeping away from turning into burnt toast," Ivy said jokingly.

"You're welcome," she said, turning to look at the Phoenix recovering from the surprise attack. "Lets end this quickly, I don't need any more tan."

With a mighty cry, the Phoenix lunged at the pair, wings and arms outstretched. Black Canary replied with a cry of her own, this one with her signature sonic power. The cry was more than enough to send the creature spiralling backwards and straight into the side of the next building. Large chunks of brickwork fell with it as it plummeted to the ground once again.

"Now Ivy!" Black Canary shouted as she leaped forward, gliding gracefully through the air.

Ivy grabbed the cuffs and sprinted towards the still dazed Phoenix. Black Canary got there first and landed on it once again, pinning it down. This time however, she stomped on its head several times, thrusting it repeatedly into the concrete. Ivy was quite the sprinter thanks to her light athletic frame and was next to Black Canary in mere moments. She slapped the cuffs on one of its arms, and pulled it behind its back. The chain wasn't long enough to reach its other arm, so Ivy had to grab it. Her hand burned when she touched its skin, the pain was extraordinary and she could feel her skin boiling. She was unfazed, however, and wrenched its arm back and placed it securely in the other side of the handcuff. The moment the cuffs were locked, they glinted magically and the Phoenix's fire started to dim. Its wings began to crumble to ash and its skin began to cool, returning to a much more normal skin tone. Finally, all that lay before them was a naked genderless human, its hair now black as coal. It was still conscious, but was barely moving.

"Well, that was a lot tougher than I expected," Dinah said. "Are you alright Ivy?"

Ivy looked at her hand. It was badly burned and it stung painfully. She rinsed it under a nearby drainpipe, cooling the still hot skin. "It hurts like a bitch, but I'll live."

Dinah chuckled just slightly. "So what do we do with this thing?"

Ivy got out her cellphone and rang a number. When the line was answered, she requested a subject pickup and gave her coordinates. "We'll just hang here for a little bit and a team will come in and pick it up," she told Dinah, before she was interrupted.

Two police officers knocked open a rooftop door, and guns drawn and aimed at the two women. They spoke in Japanese, which neither Ivy nor Black Canary understood. Dinah raised her hands, but Ivy instead made a clear, but slow motion that she was going for her pocket. The two officers were clearly not happy about this as they shouted further, but she continued slowly, pulling a notebook out and holding it up for them to see. She flicked it open and held it above her head. They scrutinised it from a distance and one officer came cautiously closer and took the notebook from her.

After a few suspenseful seconds of deliberation, the officer nodded and lowered his gun, the other following suit. He handed the notebook back to Ivy and nodded in a sort of apology. They radioed in and walked away.

"What was that about?" Dinah asked, breathing a sigh of relief.

Ivy snapped open the notebook again and showed her. It showed a mugshot of Ivy, clearly a few years old as her hair was much shorter in the picture. Below it was an array of personal details and contact information. A simple logo of a row of swords over an unusual pattern of blue and grey swirls dominated the opposite page. "Hunter's get-out-of-jail-free card," Ivy said.

"This works?"

Ivy shrugged. "It clears us for minor crimes. The only laws we probably broke was discharging a weapon and property damage," she nodded towards the Phoenix. "That thing isn't classified as a human, so shooting and kicking the shit out of it isn't illegal."

"Just like me then," Dinah trailed off, staring at the Phoenix.

Ivy didn't know how to answer her. After an awkward moment of silence in the rain, she went and sat down on the ledge near the Phoenix. She attended her burnt hand, bandaging it tightly. Dinah sat with her and they waited in silence, the rain beginning to subside.

After about an hour, a Chinook helicopter came and a small team secured the Phoenix in an iron coffin-like container. Ivy and Dinah helped them load and once it was secured, they offered Ivy a lift back to the cruiser anchored off the coast.

"Well," Ivy said, offering her hand to Dinah. "I guess I'll see you on TV or something."

Dinah laughed and shook her hand. "As long as I don't see you on there, we'll get along just fine."

"Thanks for the save by the way," she blushed slightly.

Black Canary just smiled. Ivy stepped inside the helicopter and gave her a light wave before taking a seat. Buckling herself in, she watched as Tokyo shrunk as the chopper took off. Eventually, the city disappeared underneath the low-lying clouds.

"Thirty minutes until we get back to the cruiser, Ivory," the pilot called back to her.

Enough time for a quick nap she thought. She lay back and let her eyes drift closed. It had been a long day.


	2. 02 The Night Before Monday

The Chinook descended as it approached the Nimrod, a refurbished American battlecruiser. The Exodus Battalion had acquired it from the US military when it was decommissioned several years ago. The turrets had been removed and a landing pad for helicopters had been installed. The Nimrod was possibly the Battalion's biggest asset. It not only acted as a mobile HQ in remote countries, it doubled as a secure transport for captured 'specimens'.

They landed on the deck and the crew began to tie down the aircraft to the deck with multiple thick straps. Ivy stepped off and took a deep breath of the salty sea air. A few passing crew greeted her casually, but most were busy with their work. She watched them unload the iron coffin containing their latest acquisition before her mobile rang.

Glancing at the number, she answered the phone. "What do you want Ben?"

"I guess you avoided a barbecue then?" he said musingly.

"It could have been worse. Why did I get this assignment by myself?" she said with a tone of frustration.

Ben hesitated before answering. "There was no-one else who could get there soon enough. We didn't want to spend another eight months tracking it."

His excuse was hardly convincing, since they established a Japanese branch a few years ago. She decided it was pointless to press it further as prying information out of Ben was as difficult as beheading a vampire with a butter knife. "So how did you get get in contact with Dinah?"

Again, Ben paused for moment too suspiciously long. "Upper management organised that. The boys in the Public Relations department said it would be a good idea."

'Why do they suddenly care?' she thought.

"Anyway," Ben said in a cheerier tone, eager to change the subject. "We're sending you to Los Angelos. The Nimrod has to resupply before coming home, and we have a few errands for you to run in Califonia."

She groaned. 'Come on Ben, I've got the new season of Game of Thrones and a couch calling my name. Can't you send some American shmuck to do you shit-kicking?" she replied angrily, frustrated at the delayed return home.

"Sorry Ivy. Give me a call when you're on the road," he said before hanging up.

"Son of a..." Ivy fumed, barely refraining from throwing the phone into the grey sea. Another few weeks before she could finally sleep in her own bed again. The travelling life was not all it was cracked up to be.

Midnight. A storm was rolling over the Californian swamp. A gentle rain fell while thunder and lightning menaced the storm clouds above. A snake slithered through the mud, stopping every so often to smell for it's next meal. A frog was nearby, just a few feet away. Even in the rain, the snake could sense the frog's heartbeat. It creeped closer and closer, preparing to strike.

A single bolt of lightning struck down from the heavens. The mud, and frog, erupted, sending the snake sailing ungracefully through the air. The burst of super-heated sludge flew in every direction. The small soggy crater billowed steam where the lightning struck. After a few moments the bubbling of mud and the sizzling from the rain, the ground began to heave. Instead of a hole, the ground began to grow into a mound. It moved with an eerie rhythm, as if breathing, and growing larger with each breath.

Finally, with one last surge, a humanoid figure pulled itself to its feet. The creature was twice the size of a large man and stood slightly stooped over. The hot mud covering it quickly dried and began to crack and fall off with each movement. With a throaty growl, it stretched it's limbs as if waking from a long car trip.

The snake, having recovered from the explosion, slid towards the intruder that had blown up its meal. It saw the snake and reached down, offering its hand for the snake to climb on. With the utmost care, the giant picked up the snake and studied it curiously. The snake and giant stared at each other, as if engaged in a silent, yet intimate conversation. With a grunt, it put the snake on its shoulder where the snake wrapped itself around its neck where a thick noose hung like a necklace.

"Born on a Monday..." the beast grumbled as it set off through the swamp.

After docking in Los Angelos, Ivy visited a local Hunter safehouse for supplies. The safehouse was an apartment building's basement in a particularly crappy part of the city. Although the apartment block looked like a neglected ghetto, the safehouse was the equivalent of Fort Nox. Reinforced walls, a biometric scanner access that opened a door that would put a lot of bank vaults to shame. One thing that always bothered Ivy was the huge amount of resources the Exodus Battalion had at hand. Hunting certainly was not a money-making enterprise, yet they somehow had the funds to warrant this kind of expenditure. Perhaps she shouldn't look a gift horse in the mouth, she thought, as she entered the high-tech vault.

The fluorescent lights flickered lazily to life, revealing the room beyond. Ivy was incredibly surprised to see that the room was almost completely bare! There were several scattered boxes, some empty, lying all around the room. A large table sat in the middle of the room with a few lone weapons and three crates of ammunition. These safehouses were usually better stocked than this, filled with weapons and ingredients for spells and fending off various creatures. It didn't appear to have been ransacked, just simply never restocked. Ivy spotted a lockbox on the wall which usually contained keys for stored vehicles. Inside was a single set of keys hanging from one of the several hooks. A tag on the keys told her the address where the vehicle was stored, a lockup a few miles away. Pocketing the keys, she spent a little while rummaging through what little remained in the safehouse before heading out, locking the door behind her.

The Battalion didn't have a big presence in the United States, because many of the Hunters there were unwilling to join an 'organisation' and were proud of their traditional, freelance roots. Many were also swayed by the famous Winchester brothers, who were defiantly against the corporate ways of the Exodus Battalion. Since then, the Winchesters had been the figurehead of Hunters in the States and had literally been through hell and back, most recently being the credit for bringing down the Leviathans. Their stories were so remarkable, even some Hunters didn't believe them. With that said, the brothers had fallen off the radar some time ago. After the angels lost their wings and fell from heaven, there was a lot more commotion these days and any news of the Winchesters was drowned out. Since then, nobody had really heard from them.

A few hours later, Ivy was driving a light blue station wagon that looked like it had been taken straight from the seventies. It certainly didn't suit her sense of style, but it drove well. She glanced at her GPS she had mounted on the dashboard with bluetac. Her 'little black box' had been with her for a long time. The screen was dirty and chipped and the mount had broken, but it had saved her ass more times than she cared to remember, so it carried a sense of sentimental value. The small, slightly flickering screen was guiding her to a small town in the north of the state. What lay there she had no clue, but the storm clouds on the horizon didn't make her feel welcome.

The storm made the road pitch black well before night even fell. The road was dark and the rain made it hard to see. Ivy drove slowly, lights on high beam. As she rounded a corner, something on the side of the road caught her eye. Pulling out a torch of her knapsack, she aimed it off to the side of the road. Through her rain-streaked window, she could make out that the roadside barrier had been ripped off its posts. Concerned, she pulled over and put her hazard lights on. From her knapsack, she removed a cheap plastic rain poncho with a hood from it's pocket-sized plastic pouch and put it over her blue blouse and brown jeans.

Rain pelted the yellow poncho loudly as she pulled the hood up to cover her head. Although it was barely a shower, it was heavy enough to make standing in it unpleasant. The road barrier had a car-sized chunk taken out of it and tire tread marks in the mud in front of it. Shining the flashlight down the embankment, Ivy tried to make out any sign of life. There was a faint light at the bottom of the hill, but her flashlight wasn't strong enough to piece the gloom of the treeline.

Ivy began to descend the embankment in order to get closer. Her combat boots were well suited to the soft mud, but the embankment was steep enough that water was flowing down it like a waterfall. It swept her feet out from under her and she fell head-first with a scream. She tumbled a good ten or so meters down the hill until she finally hit the bottom. The swampy ground was soft, but laden with debris. Ivy groaned as she picked herself up. On her hands and knees she fumbled for her light in the darkness. Just as she found it half buried in mud, a deep moan echoed through the sound of rain. She froze, listening for the noise again. Cleaning off the flashlight was a futile effort as all she managed was to spread the mud around, but it was good enough to cast a little light. The dim tail lights of a car were visible just ahead. As she approached, she noticed the driver's side door was open and a figure was hunched next to a tree.

Ivy heard the moan again. It was deep, deeper than it should have been. The figure shifted and she could see the size of the silhouette. It was bigger than any normal human, perhaps twice so, and it was cradling something in it's arms. She pulled her pistol from its belt holster, and aimed it at the figure.

Cautiously, she called out, "Hey! Nice and slow now, turn around."

With a deep, slightly surprised huff, the figure turned slowly and stepped forward. Ivy took a step back in surprise as it stepped into the light of her flashlight. The hulking man was easily twice her size and his skin a pale grey-blue. His eyes were pale, yet sparkling with an inhuman energy and stitches and bruises covered his neck all around. He wore a tattered shirt and vest and in his arms he cradled a woman. She was limp and blood was dripping from a head wound. The creature lay the woman down gently in front of Ivy before looking up at her, an almost pleading look on his grotesque face.

"Help her," his voice crackled deeply. Speaking was something that was clearly difficult for him to do, but to Ivy, it hinted at a hidden intelligence beneath his monstrous appearance.

The creature stepped away from the woman, sensing her distrust. Ivy cautiously approached, gun trained on him at all times. She knelt down and felt the woman's pulse, but couldn't find one, nor was she breathing.

"She's dead," Ivy said nonchalantly, after all, it wasn't the first time she'd been presented with a body.

The creature on the other hand, seemed distraught. He bellowed loudly in despair and punched a nearby tree, shattering it completely. Surprised by his sudden outburst, Ivy took several steps back. Then, as quickly as it began it was over and the creature sighed, almost as if it was saddened. It approached the woman's lifeless corpse and placed a hand over her face running it down her body.

"Sor...ry," Ivy didn't expect the apology.

Cautiously, she reapproached. "What's your name?"

As if noticing her for the first time, the creature stood at full hight and faced her. It towered well above the herself tall woman. "Solomon Grundy, born on a Monday," it said with almost perfect clarity, as if it was rehearsed. Grundy stepped over the body carefully and approached Ivy, inspecting her. It clearly saw her drawn weapon pointed towards him, but if he knew what it was, he wasn't afraid. Ivy took a step back again, but one of Grundy's steps were three of hers.

As she stepped back, Ivy tripped in the mud and fell backwards. With unnatural speed, Grundy closed the gap between them and caught her with one of his huge hands. He didn't grab her, he simply held her to stop her falling backwards. She looked at the giant above her and saw a kindness in his eyes, shrouded in power and darkness.

"Why are you here?" she asked, no longer afraid.

With an angry huff, he lifted her so that she was back on her feet. He was about to answer when a bright light shone onto the pair from the top of the embankment. With an angry growl, Grundy squinted at the light, hand raised to shield his eyes before looking back at Ivy accusingly. Surprised by the light herself, Ivy saw the distinctive red and blue flashing glow of a police car. With amazing speed, the beast turned and fled into the gloom of the swamp, his thundering steps lost in the heavy rain as ivy stared after him.

A shout from above brought Ivy back to reality. She climbed back up the soggy embankment with a great deal of difficulty. Waiting at the top was a lone police officer. He was wearing a plastic raincoat and a wide brimmed hat that distinguished him as a county officer.

"Good evening, ma'am," he said politely. "I'm going to need to ask you some questions."

"There's been an accident, a car drove off the road and the driver has been killed."

"Please wait here a moment, I'm going to need a statement from you," he said as he turned away and called the accident in over his radio.

Within half an hour an ambulance and tow truck had arrived and Ivy had given a statement. She left out any mention of the hulking Grundy. She was soon back on the road, soaking wet and muddy. Whatever Grundy was, it was going to take more than Ivy had to bring him down. Still, she couldn't shake the thought of the beast actually _caring_ about the woman in the car. Maybe it wasn't as violent as it appeared to be.

Either way, Ivy had a feeling she'd be hearing from him soon.


	3. 03 A Demon's Need - Part 1

**Two Weeks Earlier**

Emma twiddled the finger in her hand, ignorant to its owner's screaming. She wiped her blood smeared hand across her victim's beaten face. The man strapped to the metal table was in his mid-thirties and was a wreck. In addition to the recent loss of his finger, his face was covered in blood from cuts and broken skin. The little amount of skin that wasn't was black with bruises. One of his eye sockets was obviously fractured and the swelling had forced his left eye permanently closed. The rest of his shirtless body was no better, littered with cuts, bruises and the occasional stab wound.

Returning the small garden clippers to the bench, Emma's heavy army boots covered with plastic booties squelched fresh red footprints on the stained cellar floor. The bench had an assortment of household and garage implements, each with various amounts of fresh and dried blood and fond memories. She returned the clippers to their rightful place on the hanging rack and let out a long sigh, running her hand along her favorite set of pliers. She was getting bored. Her victim has told her everything she wanted to know hours ago, the torture was just for fun. Unfortunately, just like a piece of gum, it had lost all its flavour and it was time to wrap things up.

Taking a heavy pipe wrench out of a toolbox, Emma stood at the head end of the table and leaned over the man who was still screaming weakly. "Thanks for playing, sweetie," she said and before bringing it down on his forehead with inhuman strength. The room fell silent and Emma surveyed her handiwork for a moment before ripping the blood-covered apron off. She threw it at the body and walked to the sink, untying the blue ribbon that kept her long golden blonde locks neatly tied into a bun. Her blood-soaked hands took a few minutes to scrub clean and there was a knock at the door as she did.

"Come," she commanded.

The door opened slowly and one of her 'henchmen', as she liked to call them, stepped in. He was thoroughly distracted by the body on the table.

"Eyes over here," Emma said irritably.

He immediately snapped to attention, concerned he would end up worse than her latest victim. "Apologies mistress," he stuttered. "The information was correct, we found Mr Savage and we're waiting for your orders."

"Beautiful!" Emma smiled happily. "Let's go pay our old friend a visit."

"There's something else, Mistress," he said hesitantly, trying to gauge how good of a mood she was in. "There's a rumour going around Crowley's camp that Abbadon is dead."

Emma cocked an eyebrow as she dried her hands with a barely clean towel. "Someone managed to off big sister? I doubt that very much." She grabbed her dark brown trenchcoat off a hook by the door and inspected herself in the mirror on the wall. She tutted when she saw that her white blouse had received a few flecks of blood on the collar. "Perhaps I should go and visit," she muttered, trying to rub the blood off. "Nah" she turned and walked out of the room, coat floating behind her.

"Excuse me mistress?" Her demon henchman asked cautiously.

"Round up the boys and girls, sweetie," she said, not looking back. "Let's go invite Vandal to our party."

 **Present Day**

The rising sun was lurking just below the horizon when Ivy finally arrived in Burney. The small town was quiet, the main street was eerily devoid of life, though not surprising for such an early hour. Weary and desperate for sleep, the signs led Ivy to a motel. She parked and grabbed her bag. The front office was occupied by a female attendant who had nodded off. She was a young girl in casual clothes, but she could still snore quite loudly.

Ivy rapped the bell on the counter and the girl woke with a start. She looked around confused and lost for a moment as to what had disturbed her, before her eyes fell on Ivy.

"Oh, hey," she said sleepily, rubbing her eyes. "What can I do for you?"

"I need a room," she said, putting one of her many credit cards on the counter.

"Sure, just fill this form out please," she said handing her a small piece of paper. "Long night?"

"Yep," Ivy replied, not looking up from her writing. The girl examined her as she wrote, trying to figure out why she was covered in layers of crusty mud.

Once Ivy had her key she marched straight to her room. It wasn't the worst motel she'd stayed at. As long as the bed had a mattress, she didn't care about the room's shortcomings. The room had a musty smell, but the well-made bed looked too enticing. She threw her bag on the couch and face-planted the pillow. She was asleep almost instantly.

 **One Week Earlier**

The security camera footage showed a grainy black and white still image of Emma and several of her demons entering the foyer of the office building. Vandal Savage gently stroked his rough chin stubble as he examined the image on his computer screen. He was alone in his office, lights out and no window, the only illumination came from his computer monitor. The glow made the man's face look aged and tired, though that was a compliment from those who knew Vandal. Leaning back in his chair, he ran a hand through his dark brown hair and sighed. He hadn't ever thought he'd see that blonde in his life again.

There was a heavy knock at the single door opposite his desk. A heavy steel door was between him and the intruders; a thankful security measure when the sirens outside began wailing. The door shuddered as it was hit hard. Unfortunately, it was not designed to withstand a demon assault; an oversight that Vandal reminded himself to address later. Vandal opened his desk drawer and took the ornate revolver lying under a discarded folder. An old relic, he mused to himself.

The room thundered with the sound of warping steel. Although the wall was also reinforced, the plaster covering them began to crack and dust trickled down around the doorway. He opened the chamber and checked his ammunition, spinning the barrel and flicking it closed. Once more the demons battered on the door, this time it could hold no longer. With an explosion of dust and splinters, the door flew away and the room was filled with an eerie light from the hallway beyond. Three figures in dark suits walked through the dust cloud and approached Vandal's desk.

"I would walk right back out that door if I were you," he snarled. "Do you even know who I am?" Vandal said with a touch of irritation, standing slowly from his desk.

The demons didn't reply, instead they stood at the ready, as if waiting for him to make the first move. Another figure appeared from within the settling dust cloud.

"Is this how you greet an old flame?" Emma's shrill voice made Vandal cringe slightly. "You don't call, you don't write. I'm beginning to think you don't love me anymore, Vandal," her mocking tone only irritated him further.

"There's a reason for that _Eligos_. I'm surprised Lucifer didn't rip your heart out after your betrayal."

Emma's eyebrows dropped a fraction in annoyance. She hated being called by her old name. "Why does everyone still have their souls in a knot about that? Can't a girl just have her fun?" she pouted.

"Not even Loki himself would find enjoyment from your kind of 'fun'," sneered Vandal. "So, you disappear for a few hundred centuries and then turn up unannounced just to bash down my door?"

"Now that big bro is locked up downstairs and the angels are nothing more than flightless dodos, I thought it might be time to stretch my legs again," she motioned to her three henchmen. "And I need that hunky old body of yours."

The three demons moved towards him, but Vandal was ready. Centuries of training and his inhuman reflexes allowed him to fire three shots off at each demon in the space of a second. With glowing eyes and screams, the demons dropped dead around the room. Emma looked around, a somewhat impressed look upon her face.

"Awww," she whined with a smile on her face. "Won't you just come along quietly like a good boy?"

"Not for you, Eligos," he fired the revolver directly at Emma's face. Her head snapped backwards and she screamed briefly, more in shock than pain. She slowly looked back at Vandal, the wound already healing. She grinned at him evilly, her fingernails extended and sharpened to form two inch claws and her eyes turned a familiar solid black.

"Ohh, it's been so long since someone put up a real fight. Let's play old boy," she leapt across the desk as Vandal fired off another shot.

 **Present Day**

A knock at the door woke Ivy from her sleep. She lay there, waiting to see if it came again, hoping that it would go away and let her sleep longer. The knock came again and Ivy groaned. Sitting up was more difficult than she expected as she was both sore from her tumble the night before and dried mud was attempting to keep her stuck to the sheets. The door knocked again.

"I'm comin', I'm comin'," Ivy sat up on the side of the bed and stretched. Flakes of dried mud fell off her like dirty snowflakes as she walked to door. Still half-asleep, she forwent her usual cautiousness and opened the door. A man dressed in flannel and jeans stood at her door, a few inches taller than her. Everything about him shouted local hillbilly or american hunter, she assumed the latter.

"Can I help you?" she asked wearily, partially blinded by the bright daylight outside.

"Well, you look like someone pulled you out of a pile of shit," the man said with a touch of excitement in his voice.

"Do I know you?" she replied irritably, still tired and not in the mood for insults from a nobody off the street.

He looked disappointed. "Really? How could you forget this handsome face?"

She examined him closer, squinting in concentration. Ivy took a few moments to dig through her sleep-fogged mind to recall the name. "Wait, Slashy?"

The man pulled up his left trouser leg, revealing a large knife, its handle covered in etchings and marks. "Still got it," he smiled.

"Oh my god!" Ivy exclaimed, rushing forward to hug him.

Miron had been a close friend when they were younger, back when Ivy was travelling the states with her father. The pair held each other for a few moments, standing out the front of the hotel in the warm sun.

"What are you doing here?" Ivy said happily, grabbing his hand and pulling him inside the room.

"I put in a call to your boss to get some help on a case, he might have dropped your name," he brushed the flakes of dried mud away Ivy had left on him during their intimate moment.

"He's not my boss," Ivy corrected him. "And why are you even calling them? I thought all the hunters here hated the Battalion?"

Miron pulled out one of the dining chairs and checked to see how stable the rickety wooden chair was before sitting on it. "I didn't have much of a choice," he replied. "Everyone is scattered and out of touch. After the angels fell, shit hit the fan, and everyone's gone underground. I haven't even heard a scrap about the Winchesters for months, and they're basically celebrities," he paused for a moment to collect his thoughts. "So when I found out about what's going on here, I needed _someone_ to watch my back, I'm just really _unlucky_ that they sent you," he said with a smile.

Ivy looked away with a little smirk. "Damn straight you're not lucky," she sat down heavily on the side of the bed. "So why have you brought me all the way out here to god knows where?"

He pulled a phone out of his pocket and, after pressing a few buttons, tossed it at Ivy. She caught it and saw that he had put photo on the screen for her. The photo showed a blonde woman and three others in well-pressed suits dragging a badly beaten man. The blonde was looking directly at the camera, her eyes a familiar demon's black.

"That's from two days ago. The man tied up is Vandal Savage," Miron said, leaning back carefully in the chair as it groaned under his weight. "Does the name ring any bells?"

Thinking for a moment while she studied the photo, Ivy shook her head. She'd never heard that name.

"What about the story of Kane and Abel?" he probed.

"What, Adam and Eve's kids?" she asked, confused by the sudden shift in topic. Miron nodded in reply. "Kain killed Abel out of jealousy, or something like that," she waved her hand dismissively. She never cared much for the old stories.

"Vandal Savage is Abel's brother," he added, waiting for Ivy's reaction.

She looked at him in surprise. "That would make him…"

"Hundreds of thousands of years old," Miron finished. "There's various stories and rumours circulating around. Some say he's been several influential figures throughout history. Alexander the Great, Vlad the Impaler and Genghis Khan to name a few. At least, that's what the dossier your boss sent me says."

"He's not my boss," she corrected again. "So what's the point of dragging me all the way out here?"

"Because we don't know who _she_ is," he motioned to the picture on the phone. "Vandal is a pretty top-tier guy, and all of the circles of hell are supposed to have orders to stay off his radar. For someone to make a move on him like this," his face deepened into a worried frown. "Something big is going on, and we need to know what."

 **Two days ago**

The van floor smelled of oil and blood as Vandal was forced to endure lying face-down on the ground, hands and ankles bound in heavy leather straps. His clothes were blood-stained and torn, all of the blood was his. His injuries were still raw and painful, he was reminded of it every time the van bounced, but they were healing, slowly. Being unsecured in the van, the demons guarding him would occasionally kick him back into the center if he bounced too far to either side.

What a disgraceful position, he thought to himself. A man of his stature, forced into this compromising and disgusting position. He resolved to make sure that these lowly demons would regret laying eyes on him, preferably by ripping their eyes out.

Vandal strained his neck to look up at Emma's long blonde hair flowing out around the front passenger seat. She disappeared almost three thousand years ago, yet here she was, like nothing had changed. Where had she been? With all the chaos that had been going on, it was perhaps not much of a surprise that she would make a reappearance now. What did she want with him though? He didn't exist on any listings, any database. Yet she specifically sought him out at great effort. What she wanted with him was perhaps more unsettling than seeing her again.

A boot in his rib ended his train of thought.

 **Present Day**

The night was quiet except for the chirp of an occasional cricket or bird. Ivy and Miron, flashlight in hand, were walking through the scrub. Their destination was an abandoned industrial complex a few miles out of town. The road was being watched, so the pair opted to cut through the scrubland to approach from the west. Ivy had changed into her combat gear, while Miron was in usual american hunter's attire: flannel and jeans.

"So…" Miron attempted to break the silence. "How's the Battalion treating you?"

"It keeps me going," she shrugged. "And at least they pay my bills."

"What about your dad? What does he think of them?"

"He…" she paused. "We don't keep in touch."

Miron didn't know what to say after that, so they continued on in silence until they reached the perimeter fence of the complex. The chainlink fence was topped with razor wire and covered in law-threatening signs. Ivy pulled a pair of small wire clippers from her belt pouch and snipped a vertical line up the fence. Miron pulled it aside and motioned 'ladies first' to her. She smiled and quickly ducked through so he wouldn't see her slight blush.

"Which way?" Ivy asked once he had squeezed through the gap in the fence.

He looked around with the flashlight to get his bearings. "They're most likely in the foundry as their cars were parked around there," Miron pulled the 13 inch blade from his leg sheath. "You ready for this?"

She scoffed and pulled aside her coat, withdrawing a small pistol with an oversized silencer. Miron nodded approvingly, before turning off the flashlight and taking point. They creeped forward, staying close to the buildings and in the shadows. Ivy lowered her wide goggles and pressed a button on the side, activating the infrared vision.

There were two beat-up vans out the front of the old steel foundry and four demons dressed in casual clothes hanging around the front entrance. They snuck around them and entered the foundry through a side door. The foundry smelled odd, Ivy noticed, like sulphur and herbs.

"What's that smell?" Miron asked quietly, sniffing the air cautiously.

Ivy motioned for him to be quiet and they pressed on. Two sets of footsteps echoed down the hallway ahead of them and they ducked into a side room that was once an office, but now lay bare.

"...I still don't get how she can even read that thing," one of the demons said as they approached.

"That shit's written in some ancient angel babble, she can't read it," the other replied.

"Great, so now she's just mixing potions blindly in the hopes she doesn't blow us all to purgatory."

"Nah man. Some crack-head angel translated it for her in exchange for something."

"Oh wow," the demon laughed nervously. "Because that's far more comforting."

Miron nodded to Ivy as the pair passed their doorway. In an instant, he lunged out and slashed the neck of one demon deeply. He kept his momentum and crashed into the other demon, pushing it against the wall followed by his blade into its chest. Both bodies dropped to the floor with a fizzle.

"Still works like a charm," Miron smiled, flicking the knife around in his hand.

"Still likes to show off," she rolled her eyes and grabbed one body by the wrist.

He shrugged and stabbed the other body in the shoulder. Using the knife as a handle, they dragged the bodies out of the hallway and tucked them away in the office they had hid in.

"Let's go," Ivy whispered.

"Ladies first," Miron waved his hand towards the door and bowed slightly.

 **Elsewhere**

Vandal was tied to metal pillar and was uncomfortably close to the large bonfire that was raging in the foundry's open smelting pot. At Emma's command, her 'henchmen' had thrown whatever they could find as fuel, which consisted of a lot of rubber and oils. He coughed as he was forced to inhale another breath of the toxic fumes. Emma stood over the fire on a catwalk, watching it dance with great interest and unaffected by the noxious fumes and radiating heat.

"Almost reminds you of home, hey sweetie," Emma said to him, still entranced by the flames.

"Never had the pleasure of visiting yours," he snarled.

She stood motionless and silent for several more minutes until one of her henchmen walked in wheeling a large cooler on a trolley.

"Ah, we finally have the snacks for our party," she exclaimed gleefully, leaping from the catwalk.

Her servant opened the cooler for her and she reached inside, pulling out what looked like a heart, but it was almost completely black and a size or two larger than a human's. She held it up for him to see.

"This was a very tricky prize to get a hold of," she paused for dramatic effect. "The heart of a Leviathan!" She licked it gingerly, but cringed at the taste and poked out her tongue. "Should have taste-tested the snacks first, but oh well!"

She threw the heart into the bonfire, which only caused it explode with more radiant heat. After a moment the flames turned blue and the heat dropped to a much more bearable temperature. Emma began to chant incantations in a language that Vandal had never heard before. As she spoke, the flames began to dance and flicker around wildly as if blown by a strong wind.

Vandal noticed movement out of the corner of his eye and turned to see the demon that delivered the cooler be shot in the head and drop to the floor with a dim flash and sizzle. Two figures approached, one armed with a knife and the other with a silenced pistol. Emma was oblivious to what was going on behind her, concentrating on the incantations and deafened by the blazing fire in front of her. The pair were clearly Hunters and he motioned to them to untie him. The male approached him and cut his bindings, freeing him from the pillar. Vandal quietly thanked him and turned to the female. A wave of panic washed over him and he called out as loudly as he dared, but he was too late.


End file.
